The Dance
by ArabellaFaith
Summary: Yuri can't remember what happened at the banquet, but Victor can't forget. This is a short story exploring what Victor was thinking through that night and leading up to him becoming Yuri's coach.


**_Just a little OS that was taking over my brain as we wait for episode 12 to come out! It's canon compliant up to episode 11, and focuses on the banquet where Yuri and Victor first interacted, and the thoughts that led up to Victor becoming Yuri's coach. Enjoy!_**

 _He moves as if the song is already inside of him, and he is using his body to release it._ That was Victor's first thought. His second was that it would be a miracle if the younger man didn't vomit spectacularly after all the alcohol he'd imbibed. He wasn't as skinny as some of the other skaters, but he was still a slender man, and his tolerance likely wasn't that high. But oh, Victor couldn't help but be glad that Yuri _was_ drinking so much, or else he might never have seen this side of him.

The competitive figure skating world is fairly small, and even smaller at the top. Yuri Katsuki kept mostly to himself the times Victor had seen him. Yes, he had a group of friends that he interacted with, but the two of them had never been on friendly terms, mostly because Yuri never seemed to have any interest in approaching Victor. For the more outgoing skater, this seemed strange. He wondered if perhaps Yuri didn't like him, or maybe even resented his winning streak.

Yuri himself was a formidable competitor. The fact that he'd made it to the Grand Prix said that on its own. But Victor had seen him skate and knew he was good. Perhaps a bit too caught up in his own head, too easy to buckle under pressure, but the talent was there. Seeing him self destruct during his Free Skate had been painful, even for Victor who wasn't emotionally invested.

At the banquet, Yuri had gone right for the champagne. His friends, who were celebrating -either for their own wins or others'- tried to cheer him up, but he didn't want to be cheered. Victor, fresh off his fifth consecutive gold, sat back and watched the scene unfold. Flute after flute of champagne was downed, then replaced. And then, things had started to get fun...

It had just been dancing, at first. The music played at the banquets was usually a mixture of classical and competition pieces, and it wasn't unheard of for various skaters to form a make-shift dance floor. Victor had been on it more than once in his years. This time, though, it was quiet, demure Yuri who began to move to the music. He was far past tipsy and had careened into totally drunk, and yet his body moved with a grace that is rare even among skaters. Victor simply observed, caught in some kind of spell.

Soon enough, others had joined Yuri and were leaping across the room, showing off moves. At some point, a dance-off was called for. Yuri -the Russian one- was pulled into participating. Though he claimed it was childish and beneath him, Victor knew he loved every moment of it. Nearly all the skaters preformed at some point, amidst all the other dancing happening around the room. Soon, Victor hadn't been able to stop himself from joining in.

To his surprise, Yuri pulled him in for a tango. He'd intended to stay in the back, enjoy the view, but Yuri was having none of it. He brought Victor close to him, and then, despite being the shorter of them, began to lead him through one of the most sensual dances of his life. It was wild, if was fun, it was erotic, and in the moment when Yuri tipped him back for a low dip, Victor realized that he _wanted_ Yuri.

He wasn't _completely_ shocked by the realization, after all, he'd had more than one male lover in the past, but what had surprised him most was the intensity of the feeling. He knew so little about Yuri as a man, as an individual. Usually, Victor liked to savor his partners slowly, learning everything about them, flirting with them, indulging them, before moving onto anything more sexual. He was such a tactile person that sex wasn't a finish line he felt the need to race to. It was the culmination of a slow, erotic dance. But with Yuri, it hit him full on out of the blue.

But then, maybe that wasn't quite right either. As he'd sat, watching Yuri drunkenly dance in the banquet hall, he'd been entranced by the _way_ Yuri moved. It wasn't anything like he'd ever seen before. It certainly wasn't the way Yuri skated. It was unfettered, uninhibited, utterly beautiful. _As if the song is already inside of him, and he's using his body to let release it_ , he thought again. And that was what had started it. Seeing another side of him, this starkly erotic baring of his soul through the music, had tipped him from interest into full on lust in no time at all.

They parted, and Yuri stumbled off for yet another glass of champagne. _Really, I should stop him after this one_ , Victor thought. Just when he was sure that Yuri would either excuse himself to the bathroom to empty his stomach of the alcohol and what remained of his dinner or glide back on the dance floor, the younger man surprised him by throwing himself at Victor. _More dancing?_ But no, Yuri gripped Victor's arms and stared right into his eyes. His tie had been wrapped around his forehead at some point like a tribal band, the ends of the hideous powder blue silk fluttering as he swung his hips. He drunkenly slurred that his family owned a resort, and invited Victor to visit. Then, to everyone's astonishment -no one's more than Victor's- he asked Victor to be his coach.

It was a shock on so many levels at once. First, Victor _wasn't_ a coach. Not to mention that they were competitors on the same level. The fact that he wanted Victor to coach him spoke volumes about how much Yuri looked up to him. And all that aside, the biggest surprise came because Victor realized that the lust he'd been feeling for the man with his arms wrapped tight around him had intensified into almost love in three seconds flat. He was utterly smitten. He thought of laughing it off and telling Yuri that he couldn't coach him if he intended to compete against him the following year. He considered telling him that he'd had far too much to drink and to ask him again when he was sober. He even gave serious consideration to leaning his head down and capturing those lips with his own.

Instead, the choice was taken from his hands as Yuri looked slightly green, then turned and dashed from the banquet.

Victor stood, bemused, aroused, pondering his future. He'd been feeling stifled by his own success recently, as if he was stagnating in the world of skating, but now he felt intensely charged. The idea of coaching had occurred to him, of course, but always in an abstract way – something he would do someday in the future. Now, though, the thought filled his mind utterly. His main drive in skating had always been to do what people least expected of him. He thrived on his ability to surprise the audience, his coach, even himself. And what would be more surprising than taking a year off to coach right after winning gold at the Grand Prix?

That wasn't even the most exciting part. He could go to Japan, visit this hot spring Yuri had spoken of, and spend more time with him. Didn't Japanese men bathe nude in hot springs? Victor, who'd never had a modest bone in his body, found the idea appealing in more ways than one. And he would be able to help Yuri. It wasn't arrogance that gave him the thought, but realism. Yuri was an amazing skater, and fantastically talented, but his biggest potential was locked away. Completely untapped. Victor could bring that out in him. Could give him the confidence he would need to skate as unaffected as he'd danced while drunk. And it would be breathtaking.

If he happened to take Yuri as a lover along the way, all the better. He smiled. Of course, he should probably find out if his future protege was even attracted to men...

The next morning, Victor and Yuri -the Russian one- were making their way through the airport when they passed Yuri. Victor almost hadn't seen him at first. He looked so different than he had the night before. So... diminished. To try and encourage him, Victor smiled. He offered his hand. Asked if he wanted a picture. Everyone else had taken many, many pictures with their phones at the banquet, but Yuri likely didn't have a single one. Surely he wanted one to commemorate the occasion. Besides, Victor wanted one of just the two of them.

Instead of taking the offer, Yuri turned and walked away without a word. For a brief moment, something akin to hurt coursed through Victor. Then, he brushed it off. Perhaps Yuri was embarrassed by the way he'd acted. They were colleagues, after all. Maybe he was still coping with a hang over. That wouldn't be surprising. It was possible that Yuri even regretted asking Victor to be his coach. He _did_ already have a coach. Victor needed to rethink the issue as well. It had all seemed so clear at the banquet. But there were many more factors to consider in the light of day. He would take his time and properly address every one of them before coming to a decision.

Reluctantly, he forced himself not to go after Yuri. He turned and followed Yakov to the boarding terminal and got on the plane that would take him thousands of miles from the man who was dominating his thoughts.

It was many, many more weeks before Victor came to a decision. He'd been torn. His coach was pushing hard for him to begin training for the next season, the press already anticipated that he would take gold once more. It wasn't exactly that he had lost his love of skating, or even competition, but he couldn't seem to find any excitement at the thought of himself entering. His success had become akin to shackles that bound him to a certain role, a certain outcome. It was depressing.

More than once, his mind had wandered back to Yuri and the drunken request he'd made for Victor to be his coach. But Yuri had suffered a major loss the next competition he'd participated in, dropped his coach, and hadn't been seen on the ice since. Victor couldn't be certain that he was even still skating.

And then his phone had buzzed. And buzzed again. And then fifteen more times. He sorted through the messages, notifications, and calls, before finding what had set it all off. A video. Of Yuri, skating the routine that Victor had won the last Grand Prix with. It was... it was...

 _Breathtaking_.

Victor watched, stunned, amazed, half aroused. _This_ was the Yuri that he'd seen at the banquet. This was the man who's body seemed to create the music rather than just move to it. This was the inspiration that Victor had been looking for. His heart rate quickened and he felt a smile curling his lips. He'd known the year before, watching Yuri dance, that he was capable of skating like this. But seeing it was infinitely more compelling than he'd ever imagined. It didn't look like practicing or competing or even imitation. It looked like love.

Victor knew he was utterly and completely seduced. He was a goner. And he couldn't remember ever being so happy.

He'd packed up his entire life that very afternoon and hopped the first plane to Japan. In a whirlwind of activity, he was transported to Yuri's home town, then to the resort his family owned, and in no time at all, he'd stripped and stepped into the hot water of the natural spring. He'd just folded a warm towel on his head and relaxed back when Yuri came scrambling through the door. He skidded to a halt, panting. Victor felt his heart rate kick up a notch and he smiled. This was the beginning of something beautiful. Something huge. With the lithe grace only a dancer possesses, he rose from the water and extended his hand.

"Hello, Yuri..."


End file.
